remember us here before
when there were no sounds
we could not speak
and language was only a thought.
our nudity was not depraved
an expression of love was a touch
and sex a simple motion.
we’d watch...

yr fragile smells of amaranth and anise
are a tangent full of softer things
and it makes me feel so warm.
do sing to me of whimsy and wit
in a key of no compliance
of no needs,
of only this.
oh, ever...

recently, i was peeling back my ribs
when i came to realize
there's an obtuse shape inside of me.
a malignant growth of despair.
a predictable blemish,
for all to see.
it's like a queen of clubs
with...